


HA.I.R

by Cyrelia_J



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [9]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Hair Brushing, Light Angst, M/M, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 15:47:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15122690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyrelia_J/pseuds/Cyrelia_J
Summary: Julian decides it might be fun to brush their android Kelas' hair. Garak doesn't quite understand the appeal.AU taking place on Cardassia Prime where Julian and Garak are married and Miles and Keiko are living there for her work.Cleaned up and slightly expanded Tumblr prompt fill OT3 where Julian and Garak are playing with Parmak's long hair.





	HA.I.R

**Author's Note:**

> A shout out to eilu for the Cardassian potato. That idea is totally not mine but I love it. You can see the pic of the potato at the bottom of the fic. Also borrowed the Type III android term from Armitage III. Thank you all for reading! If you follow me on Tumblr you see more of this sooner.

“Well now I’ve seen everything.” Julian looks up from the sofa at Garak’s words, as his husband comes into the living room.

“Really?” Julian asks with a grin. “All of your worldliness and experience, and _this_ is what finally surprises you?” He motions towards the large brown mass on the coffee table next to the sofa. The Cardassian “potato” as Garak had called it, was a gift to Miles O”Brien. The former engineer had accompanied his wife Keiko to Cardassia Prime when her work as a botanist brought her here. Julian’s husband Garak had been recruited by the Detalpa council to act as tour guide, and Julian in turn had been recruited to keep Miles company. Garak had reasoned that they had a lot in common, making both humans despair when he informed them he assumed they were from the same “province”. The “potato” had been part piece offering part joke, until Miles’ daughter Molly gave it a name and decided it absolutely should be a family pet. 

 

The round big eyed creature with a perpetual grin and sharp little teeth, is currently nestled snuggly in its tartan cup, contentedly sipping a cold root beer through a straw. Garak hardly spares it a glance.

“While the presence of your friend Miles’ odd choice of pet is whimsical as always, I think you know full well what I’m referring to, my dear.”

“His name is Spud, Garak,” Julian deflects, “and you’re the one who decided to have laugh at Miles’ expense by giving it to him.”

“He was supposed to it eat, not feed it and have a tea cozy and a hat made for it. And _you_ ,” Garak sits down next to Julian on the sofa.

“And me?” Julian asks, pointedly ignoring the glare Garak casts to the “elephant in the room”. Seated in front of Julian on the ottoman, facing away, is a slim Cardassian male of indeterminate age.

“ _You,_ are certainly not supposed to be brushing this _doll’s_ hair as if you were a human child playing with a toy.”

 

“Oh dear,” the “doll” says with a sigh, still looking ahead to the pushed out coffee table, “I’m afraid you’ve forgotten my name again, Elim.”

“Yes, well, you know how absent minded he can be sometimes, _Kelas_ ,” Julian replies, emphasis the proper name, while shooting Garak a _look_. 

“If you think that Elim may be experiencing nutritional deficiencies that may be affecting his memory, I’ll be glad to examine him,” Kelas offers.

“You’ll do no such thing,” Garak answers before holding his hand up. Julian meets it with a press of his own palm and a sigh, head dipping down. He doesn’t waste his breath reminding Garak that the android was programed with all of the basic Cardassian medical protocols and has been thoroughly vetted by Julian. He’s already run through that argument and sees little point in bringing the matter up again.

 

Kelas Parmak, as the android is called, is one of the last of the Type III androids produced before their production was outlawed by the Detalpa Council. Inspired by the public release of Federation Cybernetics Researcher Bruce Maddox’s work with the Soong Type Androids, an interest in having similar companion pieces arose on Cardassia Prime led by a team of researchers at the Science Ministry. The original Type I androids were a novelty, basic Cardassian molded creations who could interact and provide simple conversation. When the Type IIs were created, they were a far more ambitious project, harder to distinguish from their organic counterparts, and resulted in the Council banning future production altogether. 

 

There was however, an elderly doctor and scientist specializing in cybernetics named Vakem Parmak. Supposing at the end of his life he’d little to lose, he went ahead and developed less than a dozen Type III androids. The Type IIIs were not a mass production but each instead a careful piece modeled off of Cardassians from different cultures representative of each of the major inhabited continents. They were haunting in their realism, however none of the owners had consented to allow their androids to be studied. Coercion efforts had merely resulted in owners leaving Cardassia Prime altogether, and the matter was dropped for those who remained. Julian wouldn’t hear of such a thing, and Garak’s position in the government afforded him certain privileges.

 

The Type IIIs weren’t for sale, but rather gifted as part of the old man’s will when he died. The original pieces - each having their own name - were illegal to sell, but not illegal to inherit. In an odd twist of fortune, Garak found himself the recipient of the Nokaran based “Kelas”. Julian had been somewhat bemused that the letter accompanying the “doll’ had expressed a concern for “Elim’s” well being and lack of companionship. If Garak was a good enough friend to warrant such a gift, then surely he would know that Garak was quite happily married. Garak for his part, had regaled Julian in turn with no less than four different accountings of how he knew the old doctor, and why the “gift” was anything but generous. The commonality in each story was that he hadn’t spoken to the man in over a decade. Julian supposed it was just “One of Those Things” that occasionally came up from time to time, and he let the matter drop.

 

The “doll’ was as close to a living breathing organism as he’d ever encountered, and as strange as it was at first that it was meant to assume Julian’s role in Garak’s life, Julian found himself growing rather fond of it. Garak remained polite, but cold, having first suggested to Julian that they take it to be decommissioned at the Science Ministry and properly disposed of for a few credits. Julian wouldn’t hear of it, and had scoffed at Garak’s irritated suggestion that if he was so desperate for a pet Garak could stop at the market and pick him up a “companion potato” as well. It seemed Miles had unintentionally inspired a strange wave of Potato Pets by some enterprising woman in Lacoria and her Ferengi wife (fascinating story, that). Over Garak’s objection, Kelas had stayed and become a somewhat unusual addition to their family.

 

Julian also realized that he wouldn’t mind Kelas becoming an addition to their relationship.

 

He was at a loss to even _begin_ on how to bring that up to Garak, even though he completely holds Garak responsible. There’s a certain way that Garak scents the air around Kelas, a way that the barbs he directs at him sometimes carry a certain heat to them. Julian’s observed Parmak answering softly, politely, but absolutely with an undercurrent of defiance that Julian might even cache as deliberately obtuse to get a rise out of him. He was surprised to find that far from being jealous, whatever heat seemed to be sparking between the two of them in the last few months has been drawing him in as well. He asked Garak once if he didn’t think that Kelas was an attractive creation, only to receive a withering stare in return. 

 

Kelas Parmak, the paper had read, was designed in the style of the reclusive Nokarans who inhabit the Steppe of Cardassia Prime. Garak had commented, when the android was first gifted to them, that “it looks strange even for one of those savages”. His hair is long in their traditional style, but completely white, a long braided fall down to the small of his back. his skin is also slightly lilac tinted gray, the sclera of his eyes pink, and its pupils blue again with a lavender cast in certain lighting. Garak had said he was an albino. He’s tall, slender like Julian, but sometimes walk with a stoop before straightening his posture with a soft mumble and a shake of his head. He sometimes speaks softly to himself, his full lower lip sometimes worried in thought as he pushes his glasses back up. Neither Garak nor Julian understands why he wears them. 

 

In spite of his protests, Garak looks to the seated android again with that intensity, with  that absent flick of his tongue. Kelas appears oblivious, staring out ahead, hands folded on his lap. Julian doesn’t miss the way that he straightens his posture and tilts his head slightly as if he might see Garak out of the corner of his eye. Before Garak arrived home, Julian and Kelas had been sitting in the living room reading while “tater sitting” as Miles called it. Julian was struck by an idea as he looked to Kelas on the other end of the couch. He could see the way the light coming in through the window highlighted the fine strands of Kelas white hair. It was an absolutely silly thought, but Julian had asked if he might brush and fix it for him. That question had provoked such a thoughtful and _real_ expression that Julian had forgotten completely in that moment that Kelas was “only a doll”.

 

Kelas had been confused by the request as he’d looked up with that slight adjustment of his glasses, but he’d agreed with a small smile saying that he supposed he could indulge Julian in his funny human customs. It wasn’t a human custom per se. Rather, with Keiko’s frequent excursions around Cardassia Prime for work, Julian often found himself on his off days with Miles and eight year old daughter Molly. Miles had quite seriously and patiently shown Julian the proper way to take care of a young lady’s hair and fix it how she liked. Julian was proud that he too had mastered a variety of styles from pigtails to french braid, to a perfectly complicated plait called a fishtail. Garak would occasionally humor his desire to play with his hair after that, and introduced Julian to the fragrant oil which gave Cardassian hair its traditional sheen.

 

The oils sits on the side table along with a brush Julian had purchased just for this occasion, along with a wide toothed comb, and a small bowl full of beads. The two of them are still seated, Garak having interrupted just as Julian was about to begin. He picks the comb up, ignoring Garak’s oh so human roll of eyes in exasperation, and slowly begins working it through Kelas’ hair. He doesn’t know how sensitive the pain or pressure sensors or whatever there might be, so he works slowly and gently. Kelas keeps perfectly still for him as he does. 

“You know it’s perfectly capable of seeing to its own grooming, Julian,” Garak points out as he takes a PADD and begins reviewing the itinerary for the next day’s expedition where he’s guiding Keiko.

 

“I know that Kelas can take care of himself,” Julian says mildly correcting Garak’s language, “but I think it’s nice sometimes to treat a friend or a lover.” Julian thinks there were probably better ways to hint at such things but lord knows if tact was any friend of his then his life would likely be radically different. He notes Garak’s silence at that, and he’s not quite surprised to see a speculative look out of the corner of his eye. Garak seems to let his stare become obvious. Julian lets his fingers trail fondly over the long strands of Kelas’ hair as he combs another section, noting just how damn close it seems to actual hair. He remembers learning in school, the macabre detail of hair remaining in tact long after flesh and muscle decay, those keratins highly resistant to decomposition. He pushes that thought out of his head, instead focusing on the task as hand, his fingers working carefully to separate any tangles.

 

Next, he pours the oil into his palms, letting the fragrance of honeysuckle and a hint of spice fill the space around them.

“Guls, that’s my good oil!” he hears Garak exclaim next to him, that spell broken by the aghast blink that he shoots over.

“I thought you had work to do,” Julian remarks as he lets the warmed oil pour from his hand to Kelas’ scalp, body temperature now, making the android start at the feel. Julian notices that Garak notices, and he also notices Garak’s eyes again lingering a moment long on Kelas’ bare shoulders. Kelas is wearing a sleeveless shirt - one of Julian’s old white undershirts actually - and a loose pair of cotton trousers with no less than four additional pockets sewn on. Julian’s never asked what Kelas keeps in them but he can always make out different little bulges and shapes.

 

Julian smiles a little when Garak doesn’t comment further, using a comb with closer set teeth to work the oil down, adding more halfway until the white cascade of hair starts to shine. Julian starts to hum softly to himself, some nonsense that he heard Miles humming for Molly on a few occasions. He isn’t quite sure of the words, some silly song of rounds one thing building on another until the bird was in the tree in the bog of the valley oh or whatever it was. It has a nice tune, and Kelas seems to like it as well, a little tension going out of his shoulders. Julian didn’t even know androids could hold that sort of tension and emotion. Garak has said as well that he appreciates the soothing sound of Julian’s little hums when he’s making dinner in the kitchen, and in spite of his grousing, Julian looks over and he and Garak both share a small smile.

 

The wooden handle of the brush feels familiar in his hand as many times as he’s done this for Molly, and Julian starts with long, slow strokes of the boar bristles down Kelas’ oiled hair. From the first stroke, there’s a hitch of breath that he catches, making him stop and worry that he hadn’t been gentle enough. Kelas’ voice sounds different when he answers that he’s fine and Julian just caught him off guard, so Julian hesitates.

“Are you sure? You don’t need to worry about upsetting me.”

“Ah no, I promise you needn’t  be concerned it just... I wasn’t expecting it to feel so nice. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt anything so nice in my life.” Julian finds the turn of phrase curious. Garak does as well, setting the PADD down, regarding Kelas with more obvious interest than before.

“Might’ve heard that once or twice before,” Julian says to Garak with a cheeky look, curious when Garak doesn’t answer him instead _observing_ rather than merely watching as he continues to brush.

 

As Julian continues, he hears more soft sighs, and has to remind Kelas gently to keep his head still. He sees it lulling back, a little left and right, practically rubbing his head to the brush like a cat. Julian sees his hands move from his lap to grip the cushion beneath him instead, and he almost stops again until he catches a site that’s become quite familiar since his relationship with Garak began. Beneath the shimmering white hair, he can see the slight darkened flush of Kelas’ ridges, and he may take a few extra slow passes, the bristles tickling to that sensitive neck, making him shiver. Julian is... stunned to see him reacting so sensually to that stimulation that he thinks it might be starting to affect him as well. He nearly drops the brush when there’s a gasp in response to his fingers brushing ridges. Julian clears his throat, aware of Garak’s presence, not sure why he feels like he’s been caught out.

“Perhaps you might like to give it a go next time?” Julian asks, meaning to sound more teasing than he does. 

“Perhaps,” Garak agrees quietly.

 

“I had to practice this bit on my own,” Julian says as he takes the small bowl of beads. “But I think I can do it alright. If you trust me, I mean.” 

“Please... please proceed Julian,” Kelas says barely above a whisper. Julian can see a hint of that distant expression, not to the center of the room as he’d first imaged, but clear out the window. 

“Right, I got this. You’ve really got such lifelike hair, I don’t know how Doctor Parmak had done it. It’s a marvel really. I mean your whole body is fantastic like it’s almost real er, sorry, that whole foot in mouth thing again and I-”

“I agree, it was a foolish thing to say, that is if I wasn’t real I wouldn’t be sitting here now, would I?”

“Yes, yes, it _is_ real, isn’t it?” Garak agrees suddenly and the word real takes on a new meaning. Julian dimly hears the odd sound in the background of a pet potato giving a soft belch, a surreal addition to the moment. Lord, Miles is going to kill him if he sends the thing back hyped on up sugar again but-

 

“And the beads?” Julian hears Garak ask as he begins carefully threading them in. They appear to be wooden, hand carved and painted like something he might find on an archeological dig back on Earth. No two are exactly a like, a few having a small splash of color amongst the blacks, whites, and grays.

“They’re real and they’re mine,” Kelas says sounding almost defensive.

“Really, Garak you can’t grill him about this later?”

“I merely had a hunch right now, and you know I couldn’t possibly sleep with myself if my... curiosity wasn’t properly satisfied.” Julian watches Garak move from and couch to the floor, kneeling in front of Kelas as if he isn’t looking at a doll but- “Tell me your name again, Kelas,” Garak asks gently, a hand reaching up to lightly rest on Kelas’ shoulder.

“Garak-” Julian begins but stops when he sees Kelas looking at Garak with the same intensity.

“You know my name, Elim.”

 

“Don’t pay us any mind Julian, go ahead.” Easier said than done, but Julian keeps on regardless. “Not that name, my dear, your _real_ name.”

“Kelasar Math’anzatar,” comes in another soft hush, Julian’s fingers starting to move on their own autopilot as he listens. “But that isn’t may name any longer,” he continues. “It’s just Kelas now.”

“Plain, simple Kelas,” Garak agrees with a sigh and Julian is starting to feel an idea licking at the edges of his conscious, pieces slowly falling onto the board. He may not be the shrewd operative that Garak is but-

“You weren’t always like this... were you?” Julian finds himself asking suddenly, a hint of bile at the thought that a man might have been taken against his will and made into a-

 

“I was sick,” Kelas declares firmly, interrupting those thoughts of his as if reading them. “I was always sick of course but you know that one can only fall ill so many times before the body begins to fail and so ah... I was given an opportunity. It wasn’t an opportunity I should have deserved over others but... Doctor Parmak knew that I’d been studying to be a doctor as well.”

“You weren’t programmed with Cardassian medical protocols,” Julian adds. “You were meant to be a doctor.”

“That’s what the Type III androids are then,” Garak concludes with an unreadable expression. Julian swallows, and works the final bead, not sure of what to say.

“Doctor Parmak asked me if I wanted to live and I ah...” Kelas lifts his head to look at Julian and Garak both. “I wanted to live.”

 

Julian’s hands go still. He and Garak share a long look over Kelas’ shoulder.

“But... but surely you couldn’t have possibly decided that this existence is-” It’s Garak who takes hold of a lock of Kelas’ long hair, letting it pass through his fingers with a newfound appreciation.

“I understand what I am,” Kelas says sounding almost defiant. “I know what Doctor Parmak made me and that’s-”

“Beautiful,” Julian says at the same time as Garak stunning all three of them. There’s a pause, Kelas giving a small duck of his head and an adjustment of his glasses. 

“Mmm, well, I was going to say unfortunately still nearsighted, but that would probably ruin a nice moment and ah, it’s too late for that I suppose. I might point out the terrible cliché but that would also be unkind.”

 

“Fuckable?” is the next stupid thing that comes out of Julian’s mouth prompting both Cardassians to look at him and just _stare._ Julian thinks he feels the eyes of Miles’ pet on him as well as he clears his throat. “Right, moment ruined, that one’s on me.”

“Ruined,” the potato chimes in, reminding Julian of the thing’s odd ability to parrot back simple words.

“Ruined,” Kelas agrees, holding a serious face before laughing out loud, suddenly and boisterously. head going back as if he’d just said the funniest thing ever. Julian shakes his head with a small smile and a shrug of his shoulders, admiring the beads woven in. 

“Still too good to brush Kelas’ hair?” Julian asks with a raise of his eyebrow and a challenge, daring Garak to finally acknowledge that unspoken desire. “Or are you afraid you might not be as good at it?” Garak meets that stare with wicked one of his own and Julian feels so terribly hot when he does.

 

“ _You_ made him laugh, Julian. Next time, _I’ll_ make him sing.”

 

The infamous Cardassian potato

**Author's Note:**

> Like the potato? Then you should totally follow eilu at:  
> https://eilupt.tumblr.com


End file.
